


shadow of a man (with an angel's breath)

by octoberwithoutyou



Series: of wars [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Original Character(s), Pre-Rogue One, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberwithoutyou/pseuds/octoberwithoutyou
Summary: He didn’t care about the Death Star. He didn’t care about its destructive power, and the plan the Empire had with it. He hadn’t asked, and he didn’t want to know. If he was terrified of anything in that moment, it was of that knowledge, because he wasn’t meant to know. For cowards, ignorance was comforting, and he was never a brave one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't the entire idea i had for this fic.  
> i'm planning on writing a second part, maybe

Bodhi’s earliest, most vivid memory was when he was 5 Standard years old. One of his neighbours had threw his ball to far, and it had landed on a tree. That wasn't unusual to happen, but this time, the tree was in the property of one of the meanest, grumpiest Duros in the Mid Rim. Or at least that's what he and the other kids in the area thought.

Bodhi was watching them play when it happen. The owner of the ball was crying, claiming that was his third one of the month, and that he wouldn't get another. They all thought the ball was already gone.

Then one girl, clearly unimpressed by the boy’s cries, sat next to Bodhi. “It's true. I saw his father yell at him when he lost his last ball. He was pissed.” She commented, and then, as if she had just came out with the idea: “Why don't you help him?”

“M-me? But I wasn't even playin-”

“But he is your friend. You would make him very happy.” She answered, matter-of- factly.

Bodhi didn't remember why the girl was telling him that, being more kids on the wasteland they called playground. But he stood up, determined, and climbed the Duro’s tree.

The other kids started cheering, but that was maybe a bad idea, because as Bodhi retrieved the ball from the branches of the tree, the Duro looked out of his window and started yelling at him.

His memory gets fuzzy at that point. He remembered throwing the ball and climbing down the tree as fast as his short limbs could. Once they were out of danger, he remembered the kid, now holding his ball tightly against his chest, approaching him to thank him. The other kids followed, smiling breathlessly, and telling him how cool that had been. 

Bodhi remembered that he couldn't stop smiling, even as he had scraped his elbow and knees on his way down the tree. He felt warm all over. Surrounded by the other kids, who nodded impressed at what he had done, he felt loved. And he thought to himself, I could do this everyday, if it meant feeling like this.

 

At the end of the day, his mother cleaned his scratches, and, despite his protests, put on bacta patches on them. She had finished scolding him and was looking at him with a small, sad smile.

“My Bodhi...always so eager to please.” She said softly, brushing his hair with her fingers. “You have such a kind soul…” He had thought that was something good, but when he looked up she was frowning. “The galaxy needs more people like you.”

“Bodhi.” Her tone was serious, tilting Bodhi’s chin up so their eyes were meeting. “Promise me you will never let anyone take advantage of that kindness.”

He remembered every since piece of advice she told him. Unfortunately, he wasn't really good at following most of them.

 

Things didn’t end up the way he wanted, but at least he got in as a cargo pilot. Despite the fact that he wasn’t the only one that had just enlisted, he felt as if the other pilots and him were separated by an invisible barrier. He didn’t quite fit in, and the others only talked to him about mission-related issues (That didn’t mean he didn’t know about the way they talked about him behind his back. Not all the the time, but enough to leave Bodhi wondering what had he done that was so worthy of talking).

 

Bodhi spent more time outside of the base than on it. When other pilots didn’t want to go on certain missions, they would ask Bodhi if he wanted to take them instead. He agreed most of the times. It was better being on his ship than on a place with constant training and no friends, after all. He ended up being the pilot with more missions accomplished one year. No one cared, so he didn’t care, either.

 

Bodhi was laying on his bunk, head on his boyfriend’s lap. Even though he had said he would never date again, it was actually easy for Jofrse to convince him to give him a shot. Even when the other was older, with 17 Standard years. Normally Bodhi would describe him as someone annoying, who probably kissed ass to get what he wanted, until he started speaking to him.

He would compliment Bodhi after some particularly tough missions, and offered to walk with him, since they were in close bunks. He was usually the one that talked, but Bodhi didn’t mind. He lived for the arm grabs, and the back pats, and the ‘good job’s. It was a nice change, having a friend.

A friend that turned into something more. Jofrse cornered him once after lunch and kissed him. At first, Bodhi tried to pull away, but a hand on his hair was enough to make him melt into the kiss. It was his first long relationship, and he felt childishly happy. 

 

Jofrse chose his missions. Bodhi didn’t know who his contact was, but he was actually able to do so. He usually chose long missions, delivering goods in planets far away from their base. Bodhi argued once against it, and Jofrse stopped speaking to, ignoring him completely. Bodhi decided that it wasn’t so bad, after all.

 

“Your hair is really long.” Jofrse commented, grabbing a lock of it and untangling it without any delicacy. Bodhi winced and tried to get away, but his grip was too strong. He relaxed again, slowly. “You should cut it.”

“I like it long.” Bodhi replied. “My mom used to-”

“Your mom isn’t here, though.” He cut him off, as if it was nothing. Bodhi frowned at him. “You never untangle it, it’s a mess. You’ll look better, too.”

“You think so?” He asked quietly, waiting for Jofrse to let go of his hair to sit down. He didn’t. “I...I thought you liked it. Since you grabbed my hair when we first kissed.”

The other laughed, and Bodhi felt his stomach drop. “I just did it because you wouldn’t stop moving. Hold on.” He stood up, and Bodhi quickly sat down, running a hand down his hair. He saw Jofrse enter the ‘fresher, and walked out with a razor. “Cmon, I'll cut it for you.”

Bodhi laughed nervously, thinking the other was joking. “It's fine, really.”

“You'll look nice.” He insisted. “Handsome.” He walked up to Bodhi and kissed him. Bodhi relaxed.

“I-I guess we can try it. But not too long.” Jofrse grinned, kissing him again. 

“You'll look great.”

There weren't mirrors in the bunks, so Bodhi could only observe the change first as he watched locks of his head fall to the ground. 

As the minutes passed, he grew worried. The pile of hair on the floor was getting too big. “Jofrse?”

“Just a little more.” 

When the other stopped, Bodhi’s hands immediately went to his hair. It didn’t feel right. Some locks of hair seemed longer than others. He turned to his boyfriend, who was smiling. When Bodhi looked back at that moment, he might had been holding back laughter.

 

The next day, Bodhi walked up to the cafeteria feeling eyes on him. He usually twisted his hair when he was nervous, but there wasn’t much hair to twist. 

He heard laughter as he walked pass the tables. He could see Jofrse on a table at the far side of the cafeteria. He was the one laughing the loudest. 

Bodhi didn’t run away. He took a tray and got his ration of food. All the tables were full, so he sat down next to Jofrse, who was still chuckling. He wrapped his arm around Bodhi, said something like ‘we’re not laughing at you, just with you’, and pulled away, returning to his food. Bodhi ate in silence, a knot forming on his throat. Most of the times, it was hard to remember most of them were teenagers, because of the war, but it was moments like those that made it very clear. 

In the end, someone took pity and offered to shave his head. Bodhi said yes immediately and got into a fight with Jofrse. 

They never quite spoke again after that, but Bodhi knew they had broken up when he heard moans on his bunk as he returned late from a mission. He swore he would never leave anyone touch his hair anymore.

 

Hookups, Bodhi quickly learns, are better than relationships. Even then, he longed for a more gentle touch, an encouraging smile, and, yes, maybe a little praise. But that was natural, wasn't it? 

They were even more practical. As he grew up, missions got longer, and more complicated, and he didn't have the time or the effort to pursue a relationship. When he felt too lonely, he would think about his mom. She was in a safer place now, the Empire told him that. And she would be proud of him, or at least he hoped so.

 

Meeting Galen Erso was accidental. He had just stared a little too long at him as they met on a meal line. He remembered he had looked away, blushing when he felt Erso’s eyes still on him. Bodhi tried to start a conversation, and when they parted different ways, Bodhi thought they would never see each other again. As usual, he was wrong.

He was working on his ship when he spoke to Erso for the second time. When he realised the other was there, Bodhi quickly straightened up, wiping the grease off his hands on his pants to shake his hand.

Erso’s grip was strong, and his hand was warm. But neither that nor his kind eyes calmed him down. Why would Galen Erso enter a dirty hangar, and shook a cargo pilot’s hand? His first thought was that maybe he was being punished, but it wouldn’t make sense for Erso to do so. He was so absorbed with his thoughts he didn’t see Erso had let go of his hand, and was looking at him with an amused look in his face.

He offered Bodhi to sit with him during dinner. Said he had a few things to talk about. He stayed quiet for a moment, as if expecting Bodhi to ask questions, but he didn’t. He just nodded, and Erso left. Bodhi was frankly terrified, but it wasn’t like he could say no. Erso was a superior.

 

Erso was blunt, but there was still a kindness on him that Bodhi would relate to a father’s. He took Bodhi to a table apart from the others and, after seeing his ration, he offered Bodhi his own food. Bodhi was too busy subtly looking around and checking if no one was looking at him to accept it or deny it. He was too nervous to even eat his own ration.

Erso saw this, but didn’t say anything. He kept asking Bodhi question. Where was he from, did he have any family, when had he enlisted in the Empire. Why. Bodhi replied with short answers, feeling like he was being interrogated. 

When dinner was over, and everyone was heading to their bunks, Erso shook his hand. “It’s been truly a pleasure.” He said. He didn’t wait for Bodhi to reply and walked off, leaving Bodhi feeling as if that meeting wasn’t just a meal, that it was much more. He didn’t sleep that night, his mind buzzing with possibilities.

 

A week later, Bodhi found Erso as he was heading to the warehouse. Erso wasn’t even trying to act as if that was a complete coincidence. He invited Bodhi to his office for some caf, and Bodhi, who still had his goggles on and was holding an hydrospanner, just nodded and followed.

“Do you know what are you working on, Bodhi Rook?” Erso asked him as he served him caf on a mug that was different from the disposable cups he usually used. It was cracked, the handle gone, broken. Erso could have gotten a new one without problem. The touch of individuality reminded him of home, and he didn’t want to think of that. When he looked up from the cup, Erso was watching him expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” 

“I asked you if you knew about the thing you are helping build.” He repeated calmly. Bodhi shook his head politely. He expected Erso to change the subject, or let him go. He was a cargo pilot, he wasn’t supposed to _know_. He just had to do as he was told. Whatever fixation Erso had with him was probably a joke. A joke that would hopefully end soon. 

But instead of doing what Bodhi thought he would do, Erso sat down and started talking. With the ease of the person who is expert of the subject, Erso started describing the Death Star to the smallest detail. They must have been sitting for hours, Bodhi hearing Erso talk. Something inside of him told him to stop listening, to run away. He would get killed for this, he was sure. Instead, he sat there, motionless. He didn’t touch the caf.

“There is nothing brave about blind obedience.” Erso finished, standing up and taking Bodhi’s mug. Bodhi took it as his cue to go and stood up as well. “The simplest droid does what it’s told—never questioning or deciding. If you want to know what we’re building, Bodhi Rook, you could simply ask.” But he hadn’t asked then. He had other questions in mind.

“Why did you tell me this?” 

“Because I know you won’t tell anyone.”

He was right. Bodhi left quickly and resumed his way to the warehouse. His mind was still in Erso’s office. Even as he returned to the hangar and continued working on his ship, he was distracted.

He didn’t care about the Death Star. He didn’t care about its destructive power, and the plan the Empire had with it. He hadn’t asked, and he didn’t want to know. If he was terrified of anything in that moment, it was of that knowledge, because he wasn’t meant to know. For cowards, ignorance was comforting, and he was never a brave one.

 

It was impossible to avoid Galen Erso. Bodhi only felt safe when he was outside the base, and that was an overstatement. More people started talking about a new weapon to claim the definitive victory for Empire. Every time he overheard someone speaking about it, his mind filled in the missing information, and corrected the things they got wrong.

Bodhi’s meetings with Erso became weekly, and then daily. Erso would talk, and Bodhi would listen. He talked about the Rebellion, painting them as bravehearted men and women that fought against the injustices of the Empire, the deeds he’d been complicit. 

“Because you might not hold a blaster, but your actions had helped the bloodshed of thousands of innocent people.”

Since those conversations, Bodhi started dreaming of red. A dense liquid sticking to him, drowning him. When he told Erso about the nightmares, he just smiled sadly. Bodhi guessed he had had similar dreams.

 

The fact that Bodhi agreed to have those conversations didn’t mean he liked them. He felt horrible.

Every part of his body told him Erso was betraying the Empire, and by inaction, he was, too. If he said something, maybe the punishment wouldn’t be as bad. Sitting there, sipping on Erso’s old cup, he thought of how easy it would be.

One day, as Bodhi was immersed on those thoughts, Erso stood up and handed him a comlink. 

“You can do it. One button, and you’ll be a hero on the Empire. Denouncing its bigger traitor and saving the Death Star from its destruction. You could be promoted, and stop being a simple cargo pilot. The Rebellion loses, and millions of life forms die, or watch their home planet get destroyed.” He delivered mildly. 

Bodhi was sweating. He glanced down at the comlink in his hand and then back up at Erso. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t quite catch up with what he was thinking. He watched his own hand reach out and hand Erso the comlink.

With one quick movement, Erso took back the comlink. He was smiling. 

 

Erso told him to meet at the hangar at midnight. Bodhi instantly knew that wasn’t like their normal meetings. 

They had talked for over a month, and Bodhi felt different. There was a pressure on his chest that didn’t go away. Erso told him it was guilt. At the same time, he felt light. Every time Erso told him stories of the Alliance, of people who battled for what was right, those conflicting feelings overwhelmed him to the point he couldn’t breathe.

He arrived to the hangar, making as little noise as possible. He spotted Erso immediately, standing next to Bodhi’s ship. He received Bodhi with a hug.

Bodhi bit on his lip hard so he wouldn’t make a noise. He was unused to that kind of contact, especially then, when it felt so real, so sincere. He remembered a hug like that. It was when he said goodbye to his mother before he left the planet.

Erso realised Bodhi was uncomfortable and let go quickly. “Bodhi, we don’t have time. I want you to be completely honest. Do you want to make amends? Do you want to make up for all the damage you’ve done?”

Bodhi took a step back, scared of the emotion in his voice. He nodded silently.

Erso pulled out an artifact and presented it to Bodhi. “This is the only opportunity you have.”

“What is this?” Bodhi spoke for the first time that night.

“A holographic message for the Alliance. You are going to be sent to Jedha, and you’re going to smuggle this. When you get there, you have to ask for Saw Gerrera, and telling him I sent him this.”

Bodhi stared at it, frowning slightly. Erso sighed.

“Seek out the Rebellion, Bodhi. I trust you to be the one to do this. The galaxy depends on this message.”

Bodhi already had made a decision, but Erso’s words reaffirmed it. With a shiver, he took the holo message.

As he walked back to his bunk, a new weight on his pocket that Bodhi was painfully aware of, he wondered if had agreed because he had truly wanted to, or if part of him still felt like following orders was the right thing to do.

 

The next day, Bodhi was assigned on a mission to run a cargo flight to pick up kyber crystal from Jedha to deliver it to scientists. He wasn’t assigned a copilot, but Bodhi knew why. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone, not even Erso, and he never came back to the base again.


End file.
